


To Go Back

by TheDarknessFactor



Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/M, Gen, New World, Post-Game, The Unseen Realm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarknessFactor/pseuds/TheDarknessFactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Distantly she remembers her ancient feelings of grief and rage towards him, and wonders when exactly those emotions turned to sympathy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Go Back

**Author's Note:**

> I really needed to write this, as part of closure due to the end of the trilogy. I really thought it was a beautiful ending, and then this headcanon decided to visit my brain and it hasn't left it alone since. This fic isn't solely focused on their relationship; it does explore Lightning's life after the end of the game. 
> 
> I might seem a bit all over the place, but eh... at this point, I really just needed to get this out there. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The shrine is all but deserted, but Claire can see the remnants of the festival here. 

There are rose petals littered on the ground, from the baskets of the children.  Some candy wrappers, left behind by people who forgot to throw them out.  She lets out a quiet snort, beginning to gather them up.  She’d hope that the people who were supposed to be celebrating Odin would be a little more respectful to his shrine, but in the warmth and happiness of the celebrations, she supposes that she can forgive them for littering. 

No one visiting the shrine today would think anything of the young woman, clad in jeans and a blouse.  To them, she’s just another visitor paying her respects.  They don’t know that she visits here every weekend, keeping watch over an old friend.  They don’t know that she used to be the one who commanded the legendary Eidolon.  These days, she’s an ordinary person.  Someone with her whole life ahead of her, a loving family, and many friends. 

Claire never says much of anything at the shrine, opting instead to just kneel before the headstone a bow her head.  Today, she becomes lost in thought as she stares at it, thinking of Odin and the others who were left behind— though where the Eidolons are now, she doesn’t know. 

“Say hi to Mog for me,” she says.  “From Serah.”

The breeze picks up at her words, ruffling her hair.  She’s left it down for once, like it used to be.  Mostly Claire prefers to pin it up these days, just so that it says out of her eyes while she’s working, but it’s a Sunday that feels especially sleepy; she just can’t be bothered.  She won’t be able to stay long at Odin’s shrine, since she has other places to stop by before she heads back home, but she feels that her former Eidolon deserves a moment of silence from her.

The others visit their Eidolons less regularly, but that’s hardly their fault.  Most of the shrines to them are too far away; for Hope to visit Alexander, it’s a two day trip.  Serah never had an Eidolon, but she likes to take a few days off everything month to go see the Moogle shrine.  They have all been reduced to legends now, but people still remember. 

She hikes back down the hill, enjoying the relief in her muscles that comes from descending an incline as opposed to pushing her way up it.  Keeping herself in shape has been a challenge that she wasn’t expecting, seeing as how she’s no longer in the military, but it’s been a challenge that she’s embraced whole-heartedly.  When she isn’t focused solely on forcing her slight frame to get stronger, working out can be quite enjoyable. 

Before Claire has the chance to put up the kickstand on her bike, her phone buzzes in her pocket.  She flips it open before the second ring.

“Serah, I’m—“

“Oh, sorry,” Serah says.  There’s a sound of muffled speaking in the background.  “Yeah, I know!” Serah calls.  “Right.  Um, Yeul called earlier.  You guys keep forgetting to exchange phone numbers, but she’s planning on going to the Guardian shrine today.  I know you go there every Sunday after Odin’s, so I told her you’d meet her there.  That’s… okay, right?”

“It’s fine.”  Claire’s a bit bemused.  While she’s sure that Yeul has visited the Guardian shrine before, she’d think that the former seeress would want to visit alone.  After all, Lightning was hardly a friend to Caius; she didn’t (doesn’t) have the connection to him that Yeul once had.  Hell, Noel has more of a right to visit him than she does. 

Maybe she feels guilty.  Maybe she feels like she, especially, owes it to him to remember him.  Because she couldn’t save him. 

“I wasn’t expecting it, but again, it should be fine.  I won’t be able to make it to dinner with you and Snow tonight, though.”

She can practically hear Serah’s pout.  “Why not?”

“I told Fang I’d meet her for a drink or two.  Girls’ night out.  Mostly I think she’s just worried about Vanille.”

“Oh, that’s right.”  Claire smirks at the smug tone Serah uses.  “Because Hope finally asked her out, didn’t he?  So Fang’s probably sulking.  Kind of like you did when Snow first asked _me_ out.”

“I didn’t sulk.”

“Uh-huh.  That was sarcasm, by the way, in case you didn’t know.”

“I’m hanging up on you,” Claire deadpans. 

“Fine, fine.  I have to go anyway; believe it or not, Vanille just arrived.”

Claire hummed thoughtfully.  “Yeah?”

“She’s giving me the panicked look.  Well, now she’s glaring at me for telling you that, but she _was_ giving me the panicked look.  She doesn’t know that Hope’s probably freaking out even more than she is.”

“Tell her I said hi.”

“Will do.  See you… Tuesday, I think?”

“Dajh’s birthday party.  I remember.  I’ll see you then.”

Claire ends the call and mounts her bike, pedaling away from the shrine.  The roads this far out in the country are made of dirt and stone, but that doesn’t stop her.  She has something of an aversion to cars, preferring to use her bicycle to get around; if that’s not an option, she takes public transportation.  A part of her— the part that can’t quite let go of worrying about the fate of the world— wonders what cars will end up doing to the atmosphere.  Apparently, Hope is already working on a solution to that, which doesn’t surprise her in the least.

Her usual route from Odin’s shrine to the Guardian’s shrine takes her into a dense forest, past a bubbling spring and a wasps’ nest that she nearly ran over her first time traveling there.  The shrine is in a shadowed grove, where the trees only burst into flower at one time of the year. 

Claire doesn’t know the significance of that time.  Is it his birthday?  Is it one of the Yeul’s birthdays?  The second, perhaps.  That seems less likely, though; the new Goddess of Death has her own shrine, one that she tends to avoid on any other day because it’s the most famous (and therefore busiest) shrine in the world.  Claire remembers that on a continent west of Ropeanne there’s a place that’s dedicated to the Savior as well.  The thought always engenders a sense of both amusement and bemusement in her.

When she reaches the entrance of the grove, Yeul is already there.  The former seeress has really come out of her shell since arriving in the new world.  Even now, with a hint of sadness in her features, she looks radiant.  Her knee-length skirt goes surprisingly well with her sleeveless top, though her hair is confined to a ponytail.

“Good afternoon,” she says politely once Lightning brakes to a stop. 

“Hey, Yeul.” 

“Noel wanted to come,” she continues, “but I was… selfish today.  I wanted to go myself.”

Claire shrugs.  It isn’t as though she can blame Yeul for that; until now, she’s never had the particular desire for anyone to accompany her on her weekly trips.  There is one thing that confuses her, though.

“If you wanted to come alone, why ask me to join you?”

The two enter the grove, the shade allowing Claire to cool down from her bike ride.  Yeul remains silent for a few moments, the air between the two of them heavy with words unspoken.  Neither have really had the chance to speak to one another, mostly knowing one another by association.  Both Vanille and Serah have gotten close to Yeul, believing it to be their solemn duty to acquaint Yeul with society at large.  Claire is still more reclusive.  She’ll spend time with her sister, certainly.  Fang, because the woman understands and puts up with Claire’s still curt (but warmer) personality.  Even Hope will occasionally join her and Fang at their usual haunt in town, an echo of a time long ago, when the three of them fought side-by-side. 

Other than that, however, Claire hasn’t felt the need to reach out to anyone else.  But maybe Yeul needs to reach out to her.

“I suppose it’s becuase I haven’t thanked you yet,” Yeul responds, looking thoughtful.  It’s then that Lightning notices the flowers Yeul is holding, the petals fluttering in the breeze.  “You visit here every week.  Most people come out of curiosity, but you make an effort to remember him, in spite of everything.  That’s more than most can say.”

Claire can’t lie to her.  “I’m mostly just trying to appease my own guilt.”

“Even so, thank you.  I’m sure he appreciates the company.”

She almost snorts.  Lightning’s been inside the Chaos before.  So has Yeul.  They both know that it’s nigh impossible to see anything beyond it.  The Unseen Realm has certain windows across the timeline, but she suspects that those windows are now closed.

“I miss him, sometimes,” Yeul says.  They’ve arrived at the headstone, where she lays the flowers.  “I have Noel now, and I’m grateful for that.  I love him.  But Caius raised me— and not just once, either.  I know you’ve gained some measure of respect for him and the sacrifice he made, Claire.”

“He’s still an idiot for believing that that would help him atone,” Claire mutters.

The corner of Yeul’s mouth twitches upwards.  “Maybe so,” she admits.  “You know, in Valhalla, I was one of the Yeuls who prayed for you to save him.”

The wave of pain that Claire feels at these words is stronger than she expected.  It is all she can do to not look away from the younger woman.  Whatever accusation lies in her green eyes, Claire needs to see it.  She is aware of her hands curling into fists at her side.

“I couldn’t,” she says.  “I’m sorry.”

“If any deserves the blame, it is I.”

_“No.”_   Before she can stop herself, Claire has placed her hands on Yeul’s shoulders.  “Listen, Yeul.  Don’t tear yourself up over this.  Trust me, no one knows about guilt eating up your soul more than I do.  Caius wouldn’t want that for you.  _Noel_ doesn’t want that for you.  You deserve to live your life and be happy.  A few months ago, you turned nineteen.  It’s your first time turning nineteen, right?  Enjoy it.”

Yeul looks surprised by Claire’s vehemence, before lowering her head.  “Serah told me this was like you.  You insist on the happiness of others.  Do you ever take any for yourself?”

It’s a question that Serah herself had asked Claire once, in the early days of the new world.  Claire takes a moment to consider, but she ends up giving Yeul the same answer.

“Happiness isn’t worth much without grief.  You’re right; I am carrying on their memories.  Because not many others will.  My sister’s alive, and happy.  So are my friends.  And I don’t plan on forgetting Caius or your other selves anytime soon.”  Claire kneels beside Yeul, staring at the headstone.  “That’s enough for me.  That, and the fact that I don’t need to fight anymore.  I can build a life that doesn’t involve destruction.”

Yeul merely nods in response.

Their silent vigil lasts longer than the one Claire usually holds here.  Despite her earlier cynicism, she wonders if Caius was, in fact, able to see her and Yeul.  She wonders if he knows of their conversation, if he knows that there are still people who think of him and wish him well.  Distantly she remembers her ancient feelings of grief and rage towards him, and wonders when exactly those emotions turned to sympathy.

_If you want to survive, you forget about sympathy._

But survival is no longer her primary concern.  Those words, too, are ancient.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as Yeul’s hands make the same prayer symbol that Vanille used to do.  Something tugs in her breast as she sees that; she holds onto the emotion briefly, letting it fill her to the brim, before she allows it to seep away through her fingers.  Emotions are so precious now; she treasures even the negative ones, savoring the dull ache of sadness, the warmth of joy, and the sharp string of anger.

“I’m going to head back to town,” Yeul announces.  “Are you planning on staying?”

“Just for a little longer.”  Claire has a few things she needs to say, but not while Yeul’s around.  “Then I’m actually heading to your shrine.”

“I try to avoid that one,” Yeul admits.  She gives Claire a shrewd look.  “As you avoid yours.”

“It’s easier when it’s half a world away.”

“That’s true.”  Yeul bows her head to Claire.  “I’ll be seeing you on Tuesday.”

“Yeah.”

Yeul’s footsteps are barely audible on the grass as she walks away.  Claire shifts position to sit cross legged, staring at the bouquet that the young woman left.  She’s never brought flowers to any of the shrines— not because she thought that they didn’t deserve them, but because the thought simply never occurred to her.  Flowers have never really been her thing, in spite of the fact that roses seem to be associated with her often.

“So,” she murmurs.  “If you did hear everything, then you’d know, I guess.  But in case you didn’t… or if you did and didn’t believe it— actually, that seems more likely.  You’re stubborn.  I don’t know a whole lot about you, Caius, but I know that much.”

Apart from rustling leaves, there is silence. 

“Anyway, I haven’t said this yet.  Come to think of it, I’ve never said anything before when I’ve come by, have I?  I’m not used to talking to ghosts.  We can’t abandon the past, but we can’t let it drag us down, either.  That’s why I’m apologizing to you now.  I’m sorry for not being strong enough to help you, and the Yeuls.  But it was like you said: in this dying world, nothing is more precious than time.”

Claire breathes out, looking up at the treetops.

“Some days, I did ask myself why I wasted it on you.  Others, I asked myself why I didn’t waste enough on you.  They have legends about you already, you know.  None of them are as unbelievable as the truth.”

Claire opts to bask in the silence for a few minutes.  When she checks her watch, she’s surprised to find that she’s spent almost an hour here, far longer than usual.  She stands and stretches out the kinks in her muscles.  She’s reluctant to leave, but she still has to visit the shrine to the Goddess of Death.  One more visit to remind herself of the past, and then she can relax and enjoy her evening with Fang.

***

“So, how’s Serah’s little one?  Heard he’s turned into a big ball of energy these days.  Your poor sister.”

Claire rolls her eyes.  “She moans about the stress and the worry to me over the phone, but she loves it really.  He’s her whole world now— well, him and Snow.  The kid’s definitely a mama’s boy, though.”

Fang grins at her.  “Don’t pretend like you don’t love Eriq, either.  The mighty Lightning turns to a pile of mush around her nephew.”

Claire’s tempted to punch her shoulder, but settles for a good-natured scowl instead.  This, of course, only serves to amuse Fang even more.

“There’s the Sunshine we all know and love.”

It’s been five years since the new world was created.  Five years of surprisingly normal life.  Their whole group gets together as often as they can, though they don’t live with one another on a permanent basis. 

Claire has an apartment in the city.  She’s gone back to school, and at this point it’s looking like some kind of renovation is going to be her thing.  That, or just construction; she worked at a few sites in the beginning, and she’s found that she’s content when she goes home with sore arms and sawdust under her fingernails.  She’s got a good eye for remodeling as well, according to her teachers.

She and Fang have gone to their usual bar at Fang’s insistence.  The Pulsian huntress-turned-sailor has made a quaint home for herself in an area south of here called The Ring, which is exactly what it sounds like: a large ring of islands, all situated close to one another.  The climate is more tropical there, and apparently Fang feels right at home.  She visits often enough, which Claire can understand.  Vanille’s still here, after all. 

Sazh and Dajh are staying in another city to the east.  Hope and Vanille live in that city, too, having moved in together two years ago.  Serah and Snow are staying in a small town north of here, close to the shrines that Claire still visits every weekend.  Noel and Yeul have been travelling for a little less than three years, but they keep in touch. 

The two had apparently visited the shrine to the Savior in Lavica.  Noel even sent them all a picture of the simple stone, which had a rose bush growing on either side.  Claire had looked away from the image, feeling uncomfortable. 

Sometimes, the new world feels like a dream.  Claire often passes people in the street— some that she recognizes from her time as the Savior, and others that she remembers from the Ragnarok Incident so long ago.  Cid Raines had nodded to her, once, though she hadn’t seen him since.  NORA is apparently living in Lavica.  She once saw Jihl Nabaat seated on the terrace of a café, though the woman didn’t seem to recognize her. 

“Don’t go day-dreaming now, Farron.”  She shakes herself out of her stupor to find Fang smirking at her.  “Not getting enough of your beauty sleep, eh?”

Claire snorts.  “I’ve got an exam coming up, Fang.  So forgive me if I can’t go to bed as early as I’d like.”

“This, from the former soldier.”  Fang shakes her head in mock sadness.  “How did you ever survive before?”

“Coffee.”

“Ah.  The miracle worker.”

Claire drains the last of her martini, shaking her head when the bartender raises an eyebrow.  Ordinarily she’d indulge and let herself have three, but she wants a clear head when she asks Fang about a decision she’s been considering. 

“Okay, something’s up,” Fang sighs.  The corner of Claire’s mouth quirks up; Fang’s always been able to tell what she’s thinking.  “Spit it out already, will ya?  Did someone ask if they could date you, or something?”

“No.”  Sure, Claire’s been on a few dates, but none of the guys really stuck.  “I actually got a job offer, a few days ago.”

“Well, that’s good, yeah?  You are graduating in a month, it’d be nice if you had a job when you did.”

“Not just any job, though,” Claire explains.  “You know that continent that’s way east of here?  Charl?”

“Who doesn’t?  The only continent that no one was reborn in.  Uncharted territory.  Wildlife galore, rugged mountains.  Sounds incredible, but also a bit dangerous.”

“The government’s going to send a group of people there.  It’s something of an experimental settlement.  They want us to try our best to live there without causing any harm to the ecosystem.  Living in harmony with nature, that sort of thing.  It’s getting all kinds of crazy funding from public and private investors, because we’ve only been here for five years and already we’re harming the atmosphere, so they’re trying to find a solution.  Either way, I’ve been asked to be a construction supervisor.”

Fang’s jaw drops.  “Wow.  That’s… big.”

“No kidding.” 

Claire’s reluctance is obvious to Fang, even if it’s obvious to no one else. 

“You’re afraid to be that far away from Serah.  Even after five years, you’re still scared that if you turn your back for more than five seconds she’ll be dead again.”

She doesn’t deny it.  That deep-seated fear has never left Claire, just as the sadness for those left behind has never left her.  She lives in full knowledge that Serah is happy and healthy with Snow and her son, but she can’t quite convince herself that everything is alright.  She suspects that it’s the soldier’s instinct that was ingrained into her: always be on guard.  She can’t ever stop.

“Look, this is your chance,” Fang says firmly.  “Serah will be _fine._   She’s got her lovable idiot, but more importantly, she can take care of herself.  She _was_ able to fight off monsters with a sword and a bow in the past.  Not to mention she’s been taking self-defense classes.  Plus, that sleepy little town, Gardium?  Dull as a brick.  Nothing ever happens there.”

Claire chuckles.  “Guess that’s why you can’t stay there for more than a few days at a time, then.”

“Neither can you.”

“Point taken.”  Claire leans back in her seat.  “Alright, I’ll call them tomorrow and say that I’ll take the job.”

“Good,” says Fang.  “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a sudden craving for ice cream.”

***

Claire pauses in her trap setting to wince, massaging her hamstrings.  Only forty, and already she’s feeling the signs of age.  Serah likes to mock her about being an old woman and teases her about when she’ll start to get wrinkles.  Claire has yet to develop one, though her hair doesn’t have quite the same luster to it that it used to.  Muttering to herself, she puts the last stake in the ground before straightening up.

They named the Charl settlement Little Pulse, and it’s been her home for fourteen years.

Claire has long since stopped denying it: she loves Little Pulse.  She loves the strange and sometimes ridiculous wildlife here.  She loves how it’s a mix of cutting edge technology and a more rugged way of living.  She loves travelling with the botanists on their excursions into the forest.  She loves the massive trees, how they tower into the sky like the buildings on the continent of Lavica.  She loves the people who she’s come to know, who are all optimistic of the future and want nothing more than to move forward. 

Most of all, she just loves _being_ there.  Little Pulse has given her a sense of peace that she’s never felt before, not even in Gardium with Serah and Snow.  She wonders if this is what Fang feels when she returns to The Ring, or if this is the feeling that Noel and Yeul get wherever they are, so long as they have each other. 

Pivoting, she heads back to the main tree, taking the wooden stairway up to her hut.  Both her clock and the red light through the branches indicate that it’s getting late, but she has a few more errands to run before she can relax for the night. 

It had been her idea to build their homes in the trees.  They were huge, and the wildlife on the ground could be dangerous.  They’d brought rudimentary lightning protection with them in case of storms (the irony of that was not lost on her).  The proposal had been received with skepticism at first, but once the construction was underway, people became more enthusiastic about it.  Little Pulse now covers about ten trees in total, and according to the biologists, the effect on the wildlife has been virtually non-existent. 

Claire’s heard that other, similar settlements have been set up, but there are darker rumors about outright destroying the land to make way for more commercial lifestyles.  She isn’t going to have that, and for the most part the majority of the government is against it, but sometimes it still comes back to bother her when she can’t sleep at night. 

Her friends and family have visited her several times over the years.  Serah misses her, but she was ecstatic when she first found out that Claire had gotten the job.  The others had all been impressed with the work that she’s done here, and Fang had given her a smug look and an implied, ‘I told you so.’ 

Claire grabs a credit chip and heads out to the commerce tree, where most of the goods were sold or traded.  She stops by one of the fruit vendors and buys a few mangos, bestowing a smile on the man before she heads back home.  She’d been on trap duty today, which is not doing her back any wonders.

Instead of going straight to her hut, however, she detours back to the forest floor and walks to the center of Little Pulse, where three headstones have been set up.  She can’t remember who insisted on having their own makeshift shrines, but she’s grateful because it means that she can still have her weekly vigils.  It’s a bit strange, because she sometimes feels like she knows the Guardian and the Goddess of Death.  Afterwards, however, she has to remind herself that she doesn’t really know them at all. 

The third shrine is to the Savior.  She’s able to look at it, but she still feels awkward when doing so. 

Today, she doesn’t say anything to Caius or the Yeuls.  She never brings anything for them, either; all she can give to them is remembrance.  It has to be lonely in the Unseen Realm, she knows; she remembers the terror and the emptiness she felt when she came close to be the one who stayed behind.  She can’t imagine what it must be like to be there, even if they do have one another.

“Hi Claire!  I didn’t know you came here.”

Claire turns to smile at eight-year-old Margareta.  The girl lives with her father in one of the other trees, but she seems to have attached herself to Claire for a reason that Claire can’t figure out.  She’s reminded of Hope, a bit, except without the pain of loss.  Margareta never knew her mother, apparently.

Claire has always thought that she would never make a good mother.  She was barely a good enough older sister, in the past.  But she’s made a friend in Margareta, which is something she’s proud of.  She’s taken to teaching Margareta about some of the more technical aspects of Little Pulse.  Just last week, she showed her the traps set up on the ground. 

“I come here sometimes,” she says.  “To remember the old world.”

That’s another thing about Margareta.  She’s one of the generation who was born after the creation of the new world.  One of the first to not remember the old one, though Claire has no doubt that her soul remembers it, deep down.  But Margareta’s thirst for knowledge means that she listens intently to the stories told about it.  She’s always said that the Savior is her favorite. 

“She must’ve been so brave,” she says now, eyes shining as she looks at the Savior’s headstone.  “And beautiful and strong, too.  Even without her emotions, she was still helping people.  You know, you’ve never told me who _your_ favorite is, Claire.”

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“You just said you _remember_ it,” Margareta says, rolling her eyes.  “Pulse, and Cocoon, and Nova Chrysalia.  All those places!  Everyone says that it was so different from here.  I just… sometimes I wish I could see it.  But people keep telling me that it wasn’t a happy place, and that I’m better off being here.”

“Well, I can tell you that the Savior’s probably my least favorite.”  She ignores Margareta’s incredulous look.  “I don’t have a favorite, but… I’ve always felt a little sorry for the Guardian, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah.”  Margareta looks over to the left, where Caius’ headstone sits.  “He stayed behind for the sake of humanity.  Poor guy.  Do you think he’s ever sad that he can’t come here?”

“Probably.”

She takes Margareta back to her hut with her, because Margareta’s dad has apparently left to go on a quick trip back to Ropeanne.  Then, she tells her a story of her own, one that Margareta might not have heard: a tale of six l’Cie who were cursed to destroy the world, but ended up saving it instead. 

***

Dying is frightening at first, but Claire goes away smiling.  Eighty-six isn’t bad, considering.  At this point, she’s just… tired.  Her sister is with her, clasping her hand tightly, and she can’t ask for much more than that. 

It feels a bit like sinking beneath water.  Eventually the world fades to nothing, with none of her senses giving her any feedback.  She’s still aware, but she doesn’t know what it is that she is aware of.  Her tired limbs don’t feel tired.  They don’t feel like much of anything anymore. 

Without warning, the world re-materializes around her.  But it isn’t the comforting familiarity of Little Pulse; instead, it is another kind of familiarity entirely.  One that isn’t welcoming in any way.

Gray buildings of elaborate architecture stretch away before her, lead to an ocean of darkness.  The waves that crest its shores have fluorescent foam.  When Claire turns around, the sight that greets her is that of a temple that she recognizes all too well, having surveyed the city from its balcony plenty of times. 

At least she isn’t clad in her armor this time.  She’s dressed entirely in gray, like many of the others she can see here.  Mostly they just look confused.  Either that, or they’re sitting down and looking uncomfortable.  It doesn’t take the mind of a genius for her to figure out that she’s in the Unseen Realm, along with the rest of the souls of the dead. 

There’s no sign of Yeul anywhere, but Claire’s already decided that she isn’t going to wait around to be sent back to the world of the living.  She begins walking down the cobbled streets, aware that there’s no real sensation in her body.  She doesn’t feel heat, or cold, or the roughness of the stones on her feet.  She remembers what Cid Raines told her about the dead, and how they do not remain in the Chaos for long. 

It’s only as she reaches the beach that she realizes that the simulation of her body isn’t old.  She’s twenty-one again, and it’s more unsettling than a relief.  She has lived more fully in Little Pulse than she ever did in the old world, but this body is a reminder of that place, and her failures.  Still, even she can admit that she won’t be missing the wrinkles anytime soon. 

She spots a familiar silhouette further down the shore, the waves just barely falling short of him.  Claire approaches him out of curiosity more than anything else, but there is guilt there, as well.  She still doesn’t know if her quiet apology to him, all those years ago, was ever able to reach him.  It’s selfish to want to talk to him now.  He probably wants nothing more than to simply forget. 

“I did not expect you to be one of the first.”

She shouldn’t be surprised that he noticed her approach.  “I was tired.  Had a good life.  It was time to go.”

He looks at her, then.  Caius is much the same as he was when she last saw him, before going to the new world.  There is some sadness in his eyes, but at the same time they haven’t lost their determination.  It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking when he sees her.  This place has yet to seed despair in him, and she’s impressed by that.  She makes no attempt to hide it. 

“You look well, Lightning,” he observes.

Claire raises an eyebrow, feeling a bit of age creep back into her voice.  “Lightning?  I haven’t gone by that in a long time.  It’s Claire now.”

He nods in acknowledgement.  “Claire.”  It sounds strange, coming from him.

“I never forgot you, you know,” she says.  “Not once.  The world didn’t either, but they didn’t really remember _you_ , either.  The Guardian, they call you.  And Yeul’s just the Goddess of Death.  You two are celebrated throughout the world.  I went and visited you every week.  But you probably couldn’t hear me.”

Caius is nothing else if not honest.  “No,” he admits.  “But… thank you, all the same.”

“Don’t sweat it.”  Claire digs her toes into the sand.  “I had to keep your memory alive.  I had to do something.”

“That obligation is not yours.”

“Then whose is it?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that. 

Claire sighs.  “Look, Caius.  We’ve never seen eye-to-eye before.  Not surprising, given the circumstances.  But we don’t have to be enemies for all eternity.  I respect you.  I don’t pity you, but I do wish I could help you.”          

He looks at her sharply.  “Why bother, when it is nothing more than a gambit to appease your own guilt?”

Trust Caius to cut straight to the heart of the matter.  But she doesn’t flinch, and she doesn’t back down from his gaze, either.  She’s learned that these are the kinds of things that need to be confronted head on, instead of being shut out and ignored.  Lightning wasn’t able to deal with them— at least, not well.  Claire can, and she will. 

“You’re right,” she admits.  “I am guilty.  I wasn’t able to save you, and I’m sorry.  But I also think that we’re similar, in a lot of ways.  If there’s one question that’s haunted me all through my life, it’s this: if Serah had been the one who was cursed to live and die, again and again, who’s to say I wouldn’t have made the same choices that you did?  We're not so different.”

He regards her blankly. 

“You are not the same woman I fought,” he says eventually.  “You do not possess the same restraint, or lack of feeling.”

Claire chuckles quietly, turning away to stare up at the temple.  “As it turns out, that woman didn’t actually have a heart.”

He’s silent for a long time after that announcement.  Claire walks forward a few steps until only her feet are submerged.  Unsurprisingly, the water doesn’t feel like much of anything, either.  There’s a yearning in her heart for Little Pulse; she misses her home.  At the same time, however, she doesn’t want to leave just yet.  She can’t deny that she’s drawn to Caius, a bit like a moth to a flame.  Well, not exactly.  She would never be as weak as a moth. 

“Claire Farron?”

She sees a face that she’s been expecting when she looks behind her.  “Yeul.”

This version of the seeress looks between Caius and Claire with a hint of knowing on her face.  “You cannot stay here.  It is time for you to return.”

“I know.”  Claire walks forward, pausing next to Caius for only moment.  “But I can come back.  And I won’t forget.”

She lays a hand on his arm, only slightly shocked that he is actually radiating body heat.  So he really is _here_ , then— body and soul.  He doesn’t appear to move at her touch, but she feels him lean into her ever so slightly.  Compassion floods her, compassion that she wishes she could somehow share with him.  He’s had to be strong for Yeul all this time, but there is no one that he can be weak for. 

“I’ll come back,” she repeats.

Then Yeul touches her lightly on the forehead, and she is floating away.

***

“That’s ridiculous.”

Faces angle in her direction.  The confusion there is identical.

“Why do you say that?” one of them asks.

Another snorts.  “It’s _Lightning._   What do you expect from her?  That she’d believe in those kind of fairy tales?”

“They were enemies,” Lightning says curtly.  “Why would they be in love?  I’ve never believed any of the old stories, anyway.  A Goddess of Death?  What reason would someone that powerful have to protect the dead?”

“I don’t know,” says another.  “But that’s one of the oldest legends.  The Savior fell in love with the Guardian, but she couldn’t save him from his fate, and so she left behind half of her heart with him, to keep him company in the Unseen Realm.”

Lightning doesn’t say anything in reply, but she knows that her skepticism shows clearly on her face. 

“I thought that the legends said that the Savior couldn’t feel anything,” someone else counters.  “How could she be in love?”

_It’s still ridiculous,_ she thinks.  Why are they even discussing this?  They’re fighting a war right now; they have bigger concerns.  Out of habit she checks for her knife and gunblade, making sure that they’re still there.  The fire is beginning to burn low.  The time for her watch to begin is soon, and she needs to be more alert than she is now.  She doesn’t have time for ancient tales of a time too long ago for any of them to remember.

“Hey, Lightning,” one of them calls minutes later, when she stands for her patrol.

“What?”

“Try not to die out there, alright?  As much of a hard-ass as you are, we kind of need you around.”

She feels a smirk appear on her face.  “I’ll do my best.”

***

She finds herself face-down on the ground, gasping for air and nearly choking on dirt.  Her hands paw at her front, where only moments ago there were several bullet wounds leaking blood.  She automatically rolls onto her side and curls into a ball, locking her muscles and breathing furiously as a flood of memories return to her. 

Claire Farron.  Right.  That’s who she decided to be, when she’s dead. 

That wasn’t her name in her last life, but her last life was familiar.  The life of a soldier, who shoved aside emotions.  The same moniker, one that destroyed, but didn’t protect.  Fighting a war that was more meaningless than anything else.  She lets out a breathless laugh, trying not to let the bitterness take hold of her.  Even now, she supposes, humans have the capacity to be their own worst enemies. 

Eventually, she manages to calm down and force herself to her feet.  Valhalla looks the same as it always does, and for once she’s grateful for the relative peace of it after four years of roiling battlefields.  She’s hated every minute of it: watching her comrades fall, and unable to save them.  Knowing that they were losing against the larger empire, but being a mere grunt who just happened to be able to operate a manadrive better than most meant that she couldn’t do much about it. 

But Claire pushes that out of her mind and focuses on re-orienting her sense of self.  It’s more difficult this time than some of the others, because her own death is still vivid in her mind.  Captured by the other side, kept barely alive for months until they final decided that death by firing squad was fit for her.  She wouldn’t say she was exactly relieved by that; it had hurt.  A lot.  But the feeling of sinking into darkness was welcome.

“You’re early.”

Sensing that he’s managed to sneak up behind her, Claire allows herself to sag against him.  It’s irrational to feel the same way as her body did, but that life is going to be severely imprinted on her soul, and as a result her soul is still mimicking it.  He understands that, having watched people arrive in the Unseen Realm multiple times, and so he indulges her and supports her weight.

“War,” is all she says in answer to his unspoken question. 

“Ah.”

Of course, he understands _that_ better than anyone. 

She never talks about her lives after returning.  What’s expected of souls— that they take on the form of their most recent life, in spite of having memories of all the others, and merely wait for one of the Yeuls to send them onward— is not what she conforms to, due to a promise made lifetimes ago.  Each time she returns, it’s with the appearance of Claire Farron.  Each time she returns, that is the life that has the most significance for her.  It’s more for Caius than for herself; in the event of her third death, she briefly flickered to that body’s appearance, and the alarm in his eyes had prompted her to change back immediately.

It’s selfish of him, but she doesn’t mind.  She's being selfish as well.

Slowly, she turns her body so that her head is on his shoulder.  Automatically, his arms come up around her, giving warmth to her otherwise empty soul.  It’s ridiculous (as Lightning said) and completely irrational, to leave her heart with someone whose place of residence is the world of the dead, but she can’t deny that more and more, dying feels more like waking up from a long dream. 

“Hi,” she mumbles.

His response is a quiet chuckle.  “Greetings.”

“Tch.  Stop being so formal.”

“The same way you’ve stopped being stubborn?”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

They banter back and forth in that manner for a little longer, their customary way of saying hello to each other.  Claire’s just the tiniest bit smug that she’s the one who gets him to relax like this, and be open with her.  Maybe she’s possessive, but over her many lifetimes she’s found a friend in him.  She no longer finds him after dying out of a sense of obligation to him, but because she wants to see him.

For the most part, he no longer seems sad here.  There is always a brief moment when Yeul finds them and tells Claire that she has to go that he stiffens under her touch, but then he relaxes. 

He’s… twitchier, this time around, Claire observes.  Like he can’t keep himself still.  Trust him to be antsy while she’s feeling mostly boneless.

“Come on,” she says, tugging him with her so that they’re at least on the move.  “Maybe you ought to invest in teaching some of the Yeuls how to fight.  She’d be able to defend herself, plus you’d have a sparring partner.”

“She’s far too busy,” he counters.

That’s probably true.  Claire shrugs.  “Just an idea.”

She’s never told him about how, strangely, their story has evolved.  How now children are told that the Savior and the Guardian were in love, but that she couldn’t save him, and that her heart was broken when she went to the new world because she left half of it with him.  It seemed like such a far-cry from the truth before, but it is less so now. 

This time, when Yeul comes for her, Claire doesn’t answer at first.  Instead, she brings Caius’ head down to hers for a bruising kiss, doing whatever she can to imprint herself on him as he does the same to her.  It fills her up with something that she cannot name, that she doesn’t want to name.  It’s a vow to him, one that she’s been keeping for a long time.

(There’s a reason she’s never fallen in love, in any of her lives.)

“I’ll come back,” she breathes against his lips. 

“I’ll wait,” is his response.

And when she turns to Yeul, she thinks she detects a hint of a smile from the seeress.  A real one.


End file.
